


I Wanna Be Free

by zankiefanatic



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Bipolar Ian, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 12:40:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4263594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zankiefanatic/pseuds/zankiefanatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prompt: small one shot where ian's had a crappy day and picks up mickey, mickey notices and tells ian he is driving. small acts of love</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Wanna Be Free

**Author's Note:**

> pretty much follows season 5 with everything but the break up. I like to think that for this fic Ian put Mickey through hell and constantly gave him opportunities to leave but never forced him, although it's never really discuss in this fic.
> 
> Also title is from Panic at the disco because i am not very original. ever.

Ian was running late. In fact he’d been running late the whole day, fucking things up left and right and leaving nothing but destruction in his wake. It was his first day at his new job at the grocery store down the street and he hated it. Mickey had convinced him that the pill popping geriatric viagroids, his words of course, wasn’t good for his mental health. He was good. They were good. And he needed a job that would keep on that path. Apparently sitting at a register scanning condoms, whiskey, and diapers would fulfill his life purpose.

It’d started in the morning. Mickey had been called in early at the construction site he was working at. He was pulling in a surprisingly good salary all by himself, and since he was so good at it when they needed someone they called Mickey. That meant Mickey wasn’t there to shower Ian’s body in soft, lingering kisses, or blow him under the covers the way his body had been anticipating since he went to sleep the night before. He woke up alone and late to his first day, his alarm not having gone off, and was still buttoning his jeans on his way out the door.

His training had gone horribly. The guy was a dick and didn’t wanna help Ian actually learn how to do anything. He was much more interested in his phone.  When Ian would fuck something up, due to improper training, he would lose his fucking mind and yell at Ian in front of all the customers. He’d almost quit ten times before his lunch break.

“Hello?” Ian mumbled pathetically into the receiver.

“Gallagher? You okay, you sound like a wounded puppy dog again?”

“I’m fine Mick.”

But it came out as more of a whine and he could practically hear his boyfriend smirk on the other line.

“Yea okay tough guy. You think you can pick me up from the site tonight?”

“Yea . . . I miss you.”

Mickey paused. “You sure you’re alright? You take your meds today?”

Ian nodded though Mickey couldn’t see him. “I did. Just uh you know new job, a little flustered with everything. I’m sure I’ll get the hang of it. My shift ends at eight, that okay?”

“That’s fine. That okay with you?”

“Yea. I’ll see you then. I love you.” He mumbled again, sad to not be able to talk to Mickey anymore.

“Love you too. Go eat some sugar or something, all those vegetables are probably making you sad sweet cheeks.”

Ian smiled biting his lip. “I missed your sweet cheeks this morning.”

“I don’t have time for your dirty mind Gallagher . . . But the sooner you pick me up the sooner you might get to see those.”

“Can’t wait.”

“Stop jerking off and get back to work Gallagher, Jesus.”

Ian chuckled stuffing his phone back into his pocket and trying to hold onto his new found good mood.

But it was no use. His boss was an asshole and Ian had to basically learn everything himself. He tried to make one of those displays out of cereal, but his afternoon meds made his hands shake and everything came falling down over and over again. It was actually a miracle that he didn’t manage to get fired that day. After day of bending over more than he ever had at the club, he was exhausted, and hungry, and in need of a big ole squeeze of Mickey.

That’s how he ended up late picking up his boyfriend at his construction site. He almost ran into the car in front of him because he wasn’t really paying attention, and he might’ve run a red light or two to get to Mickey. Mickey was sitting on the sidewalk waiting for Ian in what appeared to be a thin layer of dirt and dust. His hard hat was sitting beside him and Ian could tell he’d run his fingers through his hair by the way it was stuck in a messy array of strands. He had lines where his goggles had been and he was in the middle of exercising his bad habit of chewing on his nails when Ian pulled p and threw himself out of the car.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m so late. My dick of a boss wouldn’t teach me how to set up the goddamn rice krispies display and I couldn’t figure it out for the life of me. He made me stay until I got it up too, the little bastard.” Ian ranted.

Mickey smirked up at him from the ground cigarette dangling from his fingers. Nothing got him going like an upset Ian. It was practically a hobby of his, just smiling at an angry Gallagher.

“And here I thought you didn’t have trouble getting it up.”

Ian raised an eyebrow and instead of flipping him off like normal he just looked at him sad, and defeated, tired. His tall, strong redhead was one breath away from crumbling and it was Mickey’s job to keep all the pieces in one piece.

“Come on; I’ll drive.” Mickey cooed softly.

His fingers edged onto Ian’s waist rubbing soothing circles into the skin where his t-shirt rode up. He didn’t give him a chance leading him to the passenger side and closing the door firmly behind him.

It was a quiet ride home, Ian holding stubbornly onto Mickey’s hand with his eyes closed to the world.  He was so tired. Not just physically but emotionally. The cocktail of meds they’d settled on did that to him sometimes. He hadn’t been willing to compromise on his sex drive, something important and in his mind instrumental to who he was, and that had put a big of a limit of what kind of medications he could take. It took forever to get the combination correct, and some days he still didn’t feel fully like himself, like he was worth all the work. Some days he wasn’t capable of doing it for himself, so he did it for others. He did it for the people he loved the most.

He’d put Mickey through the ringer for months, and the fact that he came out even remotely whole at the end of it was just testament of how strong he was. Ian admired him more than anyone for it. He didn’t have to stay with him, and Ian had offered him an out time and time again, but Mickey wasn’t interested. He just wanted . . . _Him._

“Go take a shower, I’ll make dinner.” Mickey instructed lips ghosting over Ian’s jaw.

“You’re dirty too.” He said tugging on Mickey’s waist. “Come with me.”

Mickey smiled. “I’ll be there in a minute freckles. Promise.”

Ian moved reluctantly to the shower letting the hot water work over his aching muscles. They lived together, alone in a not so but still kind of shitty apartment away from the Gallagher chaos and overprotectiveness that made Ian feel even crazier than he was. It was easier for him to live with Mickey, to go out on his own two feet with only one hand to hold instead of six. They had good water pressure and a detachable water head that Mickey installed himself. Things were _good._ He just needed to be reminded every now and again.

That’s what Mickey was. A reminder. Of strength. That he wasn’t alone, and he would never be alone. That happiness was truly only a set of arms away no matter how cheesy it sounded. Suddenly he was there, his arms snaking around Ian’s tall frame from behind, and relaxing him ten times better than the water ever could. They didn’t fuck in the shower, not since the “bruised balls” incident. But Mickey was always the most willing to show his love for Ian there. Something about the heat of the water and the close proximity relaxed him.

Tonight he washed Ian’s hair, lips chasing the freckles on his shoulders and humming in contentment. Usually that was Ian’s task for his short bundle of joy, but he appreciated the reciprocation that night. They never spoke, Mickey because words always ruined his true meaning, and Ian because he was terrified of breaking the spell of Mickey’s sweetness. It was only once they were out of the shower, wrapping towels around one another that they would kiss and acknowledge the moment.

“Thank you.” Ian whispered into Mickey’s hair.

“Welcome.”

Dinner was lasagna that Mickey stuck in the oven and garlic bread. It was Ian’s favorite, and he wasn’t the best cook so they usually stuck to Stoffers. The only time any real cooking happened was when Ian was there to cook it. He brought Ian water for his night time pills. He didn’t pressure him to take them or constantly remind him, and Ian liked the trust that Mickey gave him to take them himself. They ate together on their second hand couch watching food network on their stolen tv and Ian finally felt the day easing off his skin. Mickey knew he liked to talk about shit though and that the day wouldn’t be over until they had.  

He moved their plates off to the side and let Ian crawl into his arms like the Great Dane that thinks it’s a fucking Chihuahua and whine all about his troubles to Mickey in a way he was never truly comfortable doing with the therapist he was now seeing.

“What happened?” He asked fingers moving through the hair he’d washed just hours before.

“My boss is a cocksucker. I’m nineteen with no diploma, no skills besides shaking my ass and apparently bagging groceries, which I’m barely good at by the way. You’re doing legitimate work. Mick you made over thirty grand last year. I wanna . . . I have to contribute. I’m a Gallagher it’s in my blood. But I’m tired of doing things that don’t make me happy. You and me, living together and being in this thing together makes me happy. I’ve finally started to repair my life, and I want my job to reflect that. If I’m still bagging groceries in a year I’ll blow my brains out.”

He could only say that with Mickey. Fiona would’ve already speed dialed a mental institution.

“Alright so you quit, and we go back to the drawing board. You wanna go to school?”

“And do what? Sit through a bunch of classes I hate for a diploma to show colleges we can’t afford? Then I end up working back at the grocery store to put myself through school and I’m back where I started.”

“You wanna go to school I’ll get you through school Ian.”

Ian shook his head. “I can’t let you do that. You take care of me too much as it is.”

“That’s what we’re supposed to do shithead.” He insisted affectionately. “Take care of each other.”

Ian smiled up at him. “Too much. School never interested me anyway. I only worked hard for west point. I fucked that up too.”

Mickey wasn’t interested in taking a trip down fucked up memory lane; he just wanted to make Ian happy. Story of his life.

“You don’t have to go to fucking Calculus you know? Pick something you like to do for fun and study that.”

“Like what?”

And so they sat there together naming things Ian liked to do and, the things he was good at. It was kind of a confidence boost for Ian to hear Mickey tell him all the things he thought he did good at, things he’d never even thought of. They’d come down to cooking and training by the time Ian’s meds started to kick in. They were better than the ones before, which had made him a zombie by nine o’clock, but they still ended up in bed by ten.

They dressed down to their underwear and Ian slid into bed on his front only to be given the nice surprise of Mickey straddling his back. He didn’t ask, an important part of Mickey doing anything sweet ever, and just sighed happily as the love of his life dug his fingers into his back. He found every crevice, every bone, and nerve that held tension and pushed it all out like a detox leaving Ian feeling content and relaxed. When he was done he leaned down skimming his lips along Ian’s spine in the most enticing way possible.

“Whatever you want, whatever’s gonna make you happy we’ll do it. Together.” He murmured. “I ain’t ever gonna leave you do deal with this shit on your own. You’re stuck with me.”

And it was the closest he would come to really explaining how he felt about Ian. It also happened to be everything he needed to hear that night. Because for Ian, when you’re crazy, when you feel like you’ve lost yourself and your own body is being ruled by a brain you never asked for, it’s so incredibly easy to believe that no one wants you. Sometimes it’s just the small act of saying it, of assuring that person that you’re still here, you’re gonna fight this with them, that makes it all the better.

He rolled over tugging Mickey close and wrapping his arms around him. They kissed for a long time, till the only thing either of them could taste was the other’s tongue, till their hair was sticking up in all directions from passion, and they decided it was probably time to breathe. Ian snuggled deep into his boyfriend’s arm pressing his head into his chest so that Mickey’s heart beat could lull him sleep. The I love you’s were silent that night, but for each of them they’d never felt louder.

The next morning, before work, Ian and Mickey sat down to look at culinary schools in Chicago. He called Fiona to figure out what it would take to get his GED and Mickey drove him to the grocery store so he could throw his smock in that smug bastard’s face. Ian laughed with glee as Mickey kicked over the rice krispie’s display and flipped the manager off before fleeing from the store together hand in hand.

He didn’t have a job, but he had a plan. His life was all about looking at the different pieces and deciding which ones fit. And for the first time in his life Ian felt like he was starting to make a picture. He had Mickey, and together he didn’t think there was anything they couldn’t get through. Together.

 

**Author's Note:**

> you know where to find me :)
> 
> send prompts and shit
> 
> http://zankivich.tumblr.com/


End file.
